A Song For Myself Poem by Namita Rani Panda

Let me sing a song for my own appreciation
Like the song of celebration for mother Earth in Rain ready for regeneration,
Let me sing a song glorifying menstruation
With pride and dignity without inhibition.

Do seeds ever cry before germination?
Do the clouds ever regret on precipitation?
So, I too with perpetual patience bear all the pain
When the red sea in my earth floods every month at least for five days
And in a year around sixty days
and in my whole life approximately five years.
But I shall never ask, "Why me and not the boys? "
As I honour God's wish with a great joy.

Why should I be dismayed of stains?
When Mother Earth herself bears stains of mud in rain
And with her stains the moon glides gracefully with no shame?
With the magical touch of the beauty hormone
I flower into a lovely woman
With prominent curves and alluring contours
A full moon with grace and lustre,
A flowering tree preparing for fruition.

A process of creation, as always, a moment of celebration,
Why a taboo, why segregation?
I can too, in these days, play and ride bicycle,
Can enter the kitchen and the holy temple
Can touch the jar of pickle.
I can fly in my sky like a free butterfly
With no sigh or feeling shy,
A mark of dignity, why to hide?
A praiseworthy responsibility, a matter of pride,
Why to be depressed, a moment of jubilation,
An ever-welcoming process to get ready for regeneration.
I do deserve a salute for this commendable contribution
for the continuation of human civilization,
So, let me sing a song in my own admiration
A few lines of praise for my own felicitation.